


Fighting It.... (One Shot)

by QuietWriter48



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester Has Feelings, Dean fights his fear, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Sam is barely in this one, Sort Of, Sparring, nothing heavy, oh and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietWriter48/pseuds/QuietWriter48
Summary: Castiel and Dean are sparring - again.  Because Dean is too emotionally constipated to admit he needs Castiel in the worst way.  No, no sex, just fluff and angst and comfort. This one's a little short, sorry.





	Fighting It.... (One Shot)

As ever, it grieves me to admit that Supernatural and its amazing characters are, alas, still not mine...  
  
Castiel straddled Dean on the mat in the Bunker’s Gym. The Gym had become a sort of informal Dojo for Castiel and the Winchesters, though increasingly of late the workouts had primarily been between Castiel and Dean. Sam often just shook his head at his older brother and sighed. Dean was so emotionally constipated it was almost hilarious. Sam shook his head and turned from where he stood in the doorway.  
‘Later, Cas. Looks like you got this covered.’  
Castiel looked up and lifted his chin towards Sam in a goodbye, then focused again on Dean.  
‘I have pinned you, Dean Winchester. Again.’  
Dean huffed and tried not to think too hard about how much he liked it when Cas was close to him. He complained every chance he got when Cas stood so close, but he didn’t know why. Dean shook the maudlin sentiments from his head. Dangerous thoughts, those were, best ignored.  
Dean evaluated his situation. Cas straddled him (focus, Dean!) and held his arms pinned to his side, but his legs were still relatively free. He’d made Cas promise not to use Angel strength, and Cas had been true to his word thus far, keeping his Seraph powers safely tucked away in some dimension Dean got headaches trying to understand.  
Maybe if he kneed Cas, it would cause him to loosen his grip a little…. Dean’s knee twitched up and Cas smirked, blocking with his lower legs, trapping them under the tops of his ankles, and pushing Dean’s legs to a flat position on the floor.  
Dean lifted hard with his legs; he wasn’t a slouch, he knew he wasn’t. But Cas’s legs were like two bands of planet-weight iron pushing his legs flat. Dean grimaced, his voice coming out in a growl.  
‘No…. Angel….Mojo….Cas. You….Promised!’  
Dean gasped and growled the words out as he shrugged and wiggled and tried to head butt Cas in an effort to free himself from Cas’s grip. Cas just grinned down at him and Dean felt himself melt a little.  
‘Assbutt,’ Dean growled.  
Cas smiled again and leaned down into Dean’s face. Dean refused to get caught in blue pools again, and shut his eyes as he tried to headbutt Cas. Cas evaded his clumsy move easily, and Dean felt Cas’s breath on his ear and shuddered before he could control himself. Cas huffed a laugh in his ear and Dean shuddered again.  
Dammit!  
What the hell was wrong with him?!  
‘Do you give,’ Castiel’s gravelly voice in his ear, barely audible. Dean stilled himself, eyes still closed. He felt Cas near him – Cas’s hands burned like brands on his arms, his legs touched fire wherever Cas pinned him.  
‘You…. cheated… Cas,’ Dean’s voice came out in labored pants, and he couldn’t figure out why he was having trouble breathing. Dean felt Cas smile next to his ear and opened his eyes. Castiel’s eyes had a small blue glow of power.  
‘I am an Angel of the Lord, Dean. I could smite you where you lay. I could burn your body with pain or pleasure. I could twist you inside out and back again. I have walked this Earth since before Mankind was a glimmer in my Father’s eye. I have created more languages than you have learned, and fought more wars than you are able to count. All before I met you.’  
Dean found that his mouth was mysteriously dry, and that he was somehow trapped in those goddamned blue eyes again.  
‘Fuck….’ Dean muttered. Cas smiled and leaned in closer.  
‘Really, Dean?’  
Dean growled in response and bucked suddenly, putting his whole body into it.  
Cas barely flinched.  
He was using Angel Mojo now, and Dean knew he didn’t stand a chance, but something inside him refused to give in. He needed Cas, more than he needed Sammy in a way, and that terrified him. And Dean fought things that terrified him, no matter what they looked like.  
Dean bucked again and Cas rode him out easily, barely moving.  
‘I can protect myself, Dean. I can protect you and Sammy.’  
‘Fuck you, Cas. I can take care of myself. Me and Sammy don’t need you!’  
With that Dean bucked again and Cas let him up, let Dean push him back and switch places with him.  
Now Dean was straddling Cas, his hands fisted in Cas’s dress shirt.  
Cas laid his arms over his head, crossed his wrists. He flexed his fingers, and cuffs appeared on his wrists. A chain appeared attached to the cuffs. It was short, and attached to a ring that now protruded through the floor mat.  
‘I am here, Dean,’ Castiel’s voice was low and soft.  
He felt the fear coursing through Dean, knew he was playing a very close game with Dean now. If he pushed too hard, Dean might turn away from him and never turn back again. The thought of that nearly broke Castiel’s heart, and he pushed it away. Dean would not turn away from him; he might take a long time to forgive Cas, but eventually he would. It was not in Dean to give up on the ones he chose to let in. Dean had called him brother, because it was the highest compliment he was capable of admitting.  
‘Dean,’ Castiel whispered again, his voice rough with emotion now. ‘I am here.’  
‘You keep sayin’ that, Angel, and I don’t think you know what it means.’  
Dean’s knuckles were nearly as white as the shirt they were knotted in. Dean’s face was a twisted grimace, full of emotion and conflict. Castiel could feel the desperation and fear coming off of Dean in waves. He knew Dean was not afraid for his physical safety, that type of fear felt different.  
‘Dean,’ Castiel focused on Dean, willed his attention. Dean reluctantly looked up for a bare moment, his face a mask of conflict. His hands fisted in Cas’s shirt again and he looked down.  
‘Cas…’ Dean’s voice was a hoarse plea. He didn’t need Cas, all he needed was Sammy; all he needed was to just take care of Sammy.  
Cloth ripped as Dean’s grip tightened further in Cas’s shirt, pulling at it unconsciously.  
‘Cas…’ Barely audible, riding crashing waves of fear, and a longing so intense it cramped and burned inside.  
Dean rested his forehead against Cas’s now nearly bare chest, eyes screwed shut against a flood tide of emotion.  
Cloth ripped again as Dean twisted and pulled at Cas’s shirt, pounding softly into Cas’s chest.  
His face buried in Cas’s chest a mask of desperately repressed pain and fear.  
‘I need you, Cas,’ a reluctant admission of weakness, forced out against Cas’s damp chest.  
A flex of wrists, and the cuffs and chains are gone.  
A strong hand brushes the handprint on Dean’s shoulder; a reminder.  
Stifled sobs and silent screams into Cas’s chest.  
‘I am here, Dean. I am here.’  
  



End file.
